by R. J. Leahy
"Good morning, Ghannon, and thank you for escorting General Garza,” Selanja said, then gave the man a long, passionate kiss. The greeting surprised Jeena, though not as much as when the muscular woman turned and greeted her in the same way.
Selanja broke the embrace and saw Jeena's stunned look.
"Forgive me, General, I did not mean to take liberties or to offend you. It is just our customary greeting at the temple."
"I'm not offended, I'm just a little surprised. It's not the greeting I would have expected in the temple dedicated to the God of War."
"It is a way to remind ourselves of what it is we fight for,” Ghannon explained. “Also, we inflict quite a few bumps and bruises on each other in our training here. It helps balance out the pain."
Jeena smiled ruefully. Mordachi had been right—theirs was a vastly more open society than any she had seen, and yet they carried themselves with an openness and natural ease that made her feel comfortable.
"Well,” she said, still feeling the kiss on her lips. “If the greetings are over, let's go see how the evacuations are going."
* * * *
Jeena stood at the southern gates, watching the exodus from the city. It was an orderly stream of humans and kytars, carts and wagons, as the civilian population headed for the relative safety of the southern cities. The evacuation would continue throughout the day.
"The last will be gone before nightfall,” Selanja said. “They all have food and housing waiting for them in the other cities."
"Uruk will be quiet tonight,” Ghannon said. “I do not think I will sleep well until her people are returned.” He sighed. “I am going to pay a visit to the Temple of Ishtar. May I escort you back, Captain?"
Selanja made as if to correct him, but Jeena forestalled her.
"Yes, Ghannon, thank you. Selanja, will we see you later?"
"I have duties in the temple to attend, but I understand there is to be some kind of contest between the troops later and I was intending to watch. I will see you there."
Ghannon escorted Jeena back to the Temple of Ishtar.
"Are you coming inside?” she asked.
"Yes, I have an appointment with several of the shimhatu. Others may feel differently, but I find a night of their arts before battle actually increases my concentration."
Jeena grinned. He spoke without embarrassment or bravado. It was a simple pronouncement, both normal and healthy in his eyes.
"Well, you enjoy yourself, Ghannon."
"I shall."
Jeena continued on to her apartment and through the adjoining doors to David's room. He was wearing shorts and boots and was in the middle of stretching exercises.
"What are you doing?” she asked.
"I've set up an intra-company z-ball game. I'm taking your advice and trying to keep them loose until battle.” He spoke in a light tone, but his eyes revealed the sorrow of losing Sarah.
"That's a good idea. You can cut the tension around here with a knife. So tell me, where does an ex-Afridi from a zed planet even learn about z-ball, let alone get one?"
"Smugglers. They're more than just a source of illicit trading, they keep us abreast of the latest Union fads."
"I see. That reminds me,” she said, tapping her necklace, “what do you know about these stones?"
He looked closely at her impe.
"Intawa trading stones. Looks like a good set. The smugglers would pay dearly for them."
"Why? What are they?"
"They call it carborillium. Apparently, it's pretty valuable."
Jeena looked again at the stones around her neck. Valuable? Rigel's rings, yeah, I'd say they're valuable! Carborillium is only the most precious commodity in the galaxy.
As far as she knew it didn't even occur naturally but had to be created under immense heat and pressure in a lab. A layer only a few atoms thick lined the singularity cells that powered the newest Hawking Drives—it was the only substance able to withstand the tremendous forces involved, and a few grams cost a small fortune to produce.
I've been walking around with the price of a star cruiser around my neck!
David started on knee bends. “So, how did your meeting with the regent go?"
"What? Oh, that. I'm not sure. You know, she tried to read my mind."
"Really? I certainly hope you weren't entertaining any impure thoughts."
"I'm serious. For all their practicality, these are a very superstitious people. Elaina believes she has seen me in her visions."
"Really? Hmmm ... so maybe she's the one with the impure thoughts."
"All right, that's it, get out of here. Go play your game. And I hope you get your bell rung!"
"Ishtar forbid,” he said, and quickly dodged the shoe that came flying.
* * * *
Jeena went in search of Selanja and found her sometime later behind the barracks, excitedly watching the z-ball game from the sidelines. David had initially included only the Pyros company in the game, but the Babylonian soldiers had been so intrigued he began sending in many as substitutes when he saw they were catching on to the rules.
The field was plotted out in illuminated chalk and divided into a grid of sixty-four squares ten meters on a side. The teams consisted of twelve players each, positioned in various formations as set out by the team leader, or centerback. Each player's ability to move was dictated by his initial grid position, much as in the game of chess, a major difference being that, in z-ball, all players moved at once.
The ball was a zero-gravity device that operated on the same principle as the levitation jack, and was tuned to hover exactly seven feet above the ground. It could be thrown or kicked higher, or carried lower, but if left unmolested would always return to its idling height.
Play was initiated by the centerback and continued until the player holding the ball was “swamped'—wherein he became buried under a pile of opposing players—or a score was made. The latter was accomplished by throwing or kicking the ball through a circular loop known simply as the “hole.” These were usually suspended in anti-g fields, but as none were available, David had them mounted on poles.
The plays could be simple or incredibly complex, depending upon the skill of the players. Coming in contact with the ball, either intentionally or accidentally, made that player suddenly “eligible,” meaning any opposing player able to move into that position had carte blanche to pummel, gouge, kick, hit or otherwise inflict physical harm in an effort to obtain control of the ball. Advancing the ball along the ground required the player to constantly re-evaluate his own position in relation to the opposing players, in order to chart a path of least resistance. This required singular concentration and an iron will. For beginner players, then, the safest plays were passes, and Jeena noted that both sides in this game were relying heavily on that strategy.
"Enjoying the game?” she asked Selanja.
"Yes, it is very exciting. I think I have the basics down. I've asked David to put me in as a substitute on his side. They need the help."
She was right. Although the score was tied, David was losing players to some very determined and aggressive play by the other team—a team led by none other than Bernd Jimes, the same young man Jeena had sparred with in Pyros.
She watched the game for a few minutes then whispered in Selanja's ear.
"Yes, I understand. But will that work?” the blonde woman asked excitedly.
"Only one way to find out."
At the next break in play, Jeena met David as he limped in off the sidelines.
"Looks like you could use a hand out there,” she said.
"You could say that,” he replied, pouring water over his dirt-encrusted head. “You offering to help?"
"Just put us in for one play."
"Us? You and who else?"
"Selanja. I've been going over a play with her."
David looked skeptical. “I'll take you—you've played before. But I really don't need another rookie. Don't get me wrong. The Babylonians are
tremendous athletes, they just don't have the experience."
"C'mon, just for one play. You need a couple of substitutes right now, and Selanja is very strong."
"Strong? The woman's a draft animal. Ouch! Okay, okay, you're both in on the next play. So, what's your plan?"
"Put me in at center attack, epsilon-beta position, and send Selanja in as a powerback. Position her in the gamma-deuce grid. Then just heave the ball to me."
"You're going to run from a beta grid?” he asked incredulously. “Have you looked at the size of your opponents, woman? You get swamped by those forwards, and we'll be looking for another general."
"Trust me, coach, I promise not to get hurt."
"Hmm ... well, I suppose I'll have to take a shot. I'll set the offensive line in a Kasparov-six pattern. That should at least give you a running chance."
The bell sounded, and the teams retook the field, Jeena leading Selanja to her starting position grid.
"You know what to do?"
Selanja looked up-field, counting off the grids. “Yes."
"And you're sure you can make it?"
"Positive. On Ararat, it is not so far."
"Okay. Remember, timing is everything."
David called out an offensive formation he felt would give Jeena the best chance at an open run—at least for the first few grids. After that she would be on her own. Standing in the rear position, he prepared to jump at the ball hovering just over his head. He glanced at Jeena, who nodded.
Leaping up, he grabbed the ball and hurled it to her before his feet hit the ground. She caught it expertly and immediately took off on a diagonal run, heading to the left sidelines. As he had anticipated, she had little opposition for the first few grids and was just past the half-field mark when she saw Bernd and several other enormous defensemen converging on her.
Bernd was grinning evilly as he bore down full speed on the gamma-five grid, the only position still left open to her. She reached the spot first and threw herself to the ground, releasing the ball at the same moment. The defending players, suddenly seeing the ball float free, tried desperately to halt their forward momentum and grab it. They never had a chance.
As soon as Jeena began her run, Selanja had taken off straight down the field. She was a half-step behind her as Jeena reached the G-5 grid. As Jeena fell, Selanja leapt up and over the grid, catching the ball in mid-air and continuing onto the grid beyond, a grid that was presently occupied by a very surprised Bernd Jimes.
Selanja came down feet first, slamming into Bernd's chest and knocking him to the ground. Following Jeena's instructions, she raced down the now-empty backfield toward the goal. The sidelines exploded in cheers as she jumped up and tossed the ball in the hole.
The Babylonians went wild. Jeena ran downfield and embraced Selanja. The two were still clinging to each other as Bernd strode toward them, a referee in tow.
"That point doesn't count, General,” he said.
"Oh? And why is that?” Jeena asked, grinning.
"Its a basic rule—two offensive players can't occupy the same grid. You two were both in G-5."
"Actually, you're wrong about that. Selanja was never in G-5, she leapt over it."
Bernd looked to the referee, who was scratching his head.
"Well, that's true. As far as I know there's no rule against leaping over an entire grid. Not sure why not."
"It's because z-ball is always played in Earth-normal gravity, not in the weaker gravity of good ol’ Ararat,” Jeena said.
"Sorry, Bernd,” the ref said. “The general is right. The point stands. Game over."
Bernd stood crestfallen as the cheering crowd herded the teams into the barracks for an impromptu party. Jeena hooked her arm around his waist.
"Oh, c'mon, Bernd, cheer up. I'll buy you a drink to make it up to you."
"It'll take more than a drink, General,” he replied, sulking.
"Then I will make it up to you, Bernd,” Selanja said, eying the big man amorously.
* * * *
Jeena sat astride the kytar hitching post outside the barracks, smoking one of her last cigars and nursing a bottle of Babylonian whiskey. It was late, and the party had broken up some hours earlier, leaving behind only a few diehard revelers whose occasional outbursts of drunken laughter wafted through the warm night to disrupt the chorus of insects serenading her. Selanja had left around that time as well with an obviously intoxicated Bernd, and Jeena had not seen either of them since.
She saw her now, though, walking toward her, naked but for a kilt, a slight smile on her lips.
"How's Bernd?” she asked, passing the bottle.
"Sleeping like a baby,” Selanja answered, hopping up on the post and taking a drink.
"You didn't hurt him, did you?"
"No more than he wanted me to."
Jeena smiled and shook her head.
"You know, you could have joined us. Bernd certainly wouldn't have minded, and you don't strike me as the prudish type."
"Don't underestimate my prudery,” Jeena said. “I thought we had a pretty tolerant sexual code in the Corps, but compared to you Babylonians I'm practically prudish."
Selanja laughed. “We are not so different. Most people accept that sex is a natural part of life. We believe that as well, and have simply removed the artificial restrictions set in place by other societies."
"So I've seen. Don't you people ever get jealous?"
"Jealousy is not unknown, but in truth, we are not a very possessive people. We understand that sexual attraction for others doesn't die just because you are in love. To pretend that it does just sets you up for disappointment and disillusionment."
"Sure, it sounds good in the abstract,” said Jeena, taking another drink from the bottle, “but I doubt most people could handle it. You could leave yourself open to a lot of hurt that way."
"That is true. It takes a tremendous amount of trust and maturity. I mean no offense, but it seems to me that most of mankind has never gotten past the giggly adolescent stage of sexual development. If it's going to be a dirty little secret, snickered at behind closed doors, then there is no way it can advance to our kind of openness."
"That's just sex. What about love? Can love survive that kind of openness?
"It can and it does."
"I have my doubts. Your system sounds logical, but I've seen love bring logic to its knees. Haven't you ever been in love?"
"Yes, I am in love with a wonderful man. He is my ibru. He is someone who loves and trusts me completely, and I feel the same towards him. It is an absolute and inviolable trust that gives us the confidence and freedom to be who we are. It brings me a joy I cannot imagine living without."
"An ibru is a soul-mate, something like a husband, isn't it? So you have an ibru, but you were just with Bernd. How does that work?"
"But, Jeena, that was just fun, like the game we played. I have no deep feelings for Bernd. My attraction was simply sexual. I made that clear to him in the beginning, and he accepted it. My ibru is certainly not going to worry about such a small matter. It takes nothing from him."
"You're going to tell him?"
"Naturally. There is no need for secrecy. It is a normal part of life for us.” She looked quizzically at her. “And you? Have you ever been in love?"
She stared at the bottle in her hand. “No."
"That surprises me. Your eyes carry the pain of one who has suffered a loss of the heart—that much has been clear to all since you arrived. Forgive me. Perhaps that is something too near yet to speak of."
Jeena tipped the bottle back and took a long drink before answering.
"You're wrong, Selanja. I don't know anything about love. I wouldn't know it if it hit me in the mouth. All I know is war."
They drank in silence, passing the bottle back and forth before Selanja hopped off the post, pulling Jeena down with her. She held her hand out.
Jeena grasped it. “Are we going somewhere?"
"Yes, to my home. If you wou
ld like."
Jeena hesitated only a moment before putting her arm around the other woman's waist and allowing herself to be led back toward the city.
"So, tell me Selanja, who is your ibru?” she asked.
"You have met him. He is Sargon."
"Hmm. I admire your taste."
"I am glad, for tonight I share him with you."
Chapter 23
Chaos theory clearly demonstrates that even infinitely small inputs into a system may, over time, create enormous results. A single pebble may start an avalanche; the beating of a butterfly's wings may signal the birth of a tornado.
The Butterfly Effect
Mordachi puffed and wheezed as he tried to keep pace with the speedy feet of the youth.
"Good heavens, young man, slow down. What is so important I have to rush to the gates like a startled wolla?"
"Hurry, Mordachi!” the young man called over his shoulder. “The Gate Master said you must come with all speed!"
Grumbling, the prime minister followed the page through the atrium and into the tunnel leading to the southern gate. He arrived gasping and shaking his head at the soldier on guard.
"This had better be important,” he warned.
The soldier did not answer, just pointed a trembling finger to the open gate.
Mordachi's frown changed into a startled gasp as he beheld the figure sitting at the entrance to the city.
"Samson!"
"Hello, Mordachi."
"But ... But we thought you were dead.” He quickly told of finding the mangled body of the tigra by the northern road.
"No, it wasn't me, although it easily could have been. I'll have to tell you the story later, though, I'm pressed for time as it is. May I enter? I need to talk with Jeena."
"She isn't here,” the old man replied sadly. “News of your death affected her gravely. She lost all hope, I think. She went with David and the army to Uruk weeks ago."
"I see. Then I must hurry. I'm going to Uruk myself, but I wanted to see her first. Goodbye, Mordachi, and thank you for all your help."